


tomorrow's to you

by sieges



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fleeting Romance, Hopeful Ending, M/M, Short & Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:27:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27955367
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sieges/pseuds/sieges
Summary: “Somewhere, in another country, it’s already tomorrow,” Komori explains. “And in the same vein, it’s yesterday someplace else. So what does that make today?”(AKA: Komori and Suna, displaced by time, find love in the foreign city streets of Korea.)
Relationships: Komori Motoya/Suna Rintarou
Comments: 10
Kudos: 43





	tomorrow's to you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [rosevtea](https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosevtea/gifts).
  * Translation into Русский available: [завтра для тебя](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29047686) by [librevers](https://archiveofourown.org/users/librevers/pseuds/librevers), [WTF Haikyuu 2021 (Haikyuu_Fandom_Kombat)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Haikyuu_Fandom_Kombat/pseuds/WTF%20Haikyuu%202021)



> HAPPY! BIRTHDAY! MELLY! i wrote this at the very last minute because i had no idea what to write for kmsn. even though i intended to pull smth out of the past kmsn aus we've discussed, i ended up getting something vaguely inspired by the movie already tomorrow in hong kong, which no one needs to actually know in order to understand this story.
> 
> melly, my favorite and fellow itachiyama stan, i hope you have a wonderful bday, and i hope you enjoy this short fic!

The way they part is peaceful by all means. It could be because they're mature that way, or that they're well aware that it's circumstance that drives them apart and nothing more, so there's no room for resentment and regrets. 

In reality, it's probably because—

"If you think about it," Komori tells him. "We never really dated in the first place."

"Hm." Suna doesn't really have a reply to that. They’ve decided to eat at an open ramen bar stationed in the lively area of the streets, where there was beer and laughter and karaoke coming from different shops but all somehow mingling together, sharing that cheery atmosphere. Technically, he and Komori are in the quieter side, but Suna is hyper-aware of how loud everything suddenly seems, like the way their chopsticks scrape against the bowl, the clinking sound of ice tapping on the glass, the slight shift and creak of the wooden floor below them that carries their weight. "Should I be offended that you're implying I'm basically your one night stand?" 

"Three-night stand," Komori corrects, and he's smiling in that special kind of way that makes Suna wonder if he's drunk. “Then again, time is a lie here.” 

“What does that mean?”

“Somewhere, in another country, it’s already tomorrow,” Komori explains. “And in the same vein, it’s yesterday someplace else. So what does that make today?”

“You know I’m not good at philosophical questions,” Suna says, lifting his beer and tilting it idly. After a beat, he presses the rim to his lips to take a small sip. “Timezones though, I get. Sort of.”

Komori hums. “It could’ve been three nights. Or four. Or two. Or one.”

“So in another world, I’m still your one night stand.”

Komori laughs. “If it’s any consolation, you’re the best one I ever had.”

Despite himself, Suna smiles. 

* * *

Suna met Komori three nights ago by the busking streets of Hongdae. They had orbited around the same busker who had been crooning about heartbreak. Suna was there for the pictures because there was something about the backdrop and the expression on the performer’s face that felt like it deserved to be made permanent. (He always made sure to ask permission right after if he could keep the photos. He was familiar enough among the locals that they rarely ever said no, and even commissioned him to record them occasionally.) Komori was there for the song because he’d broken up with his girlfriend right before coming here and found solace in the singer’s voice. 

The camera had drifted and Suna had accidentally snapped a picture of Komori, but suddenly, that was all his lens and eyes wanted to focus on, and things fell into place right then and there. 

Komori said, probably the fifth hour in, that he’d only be in Korea for three days. He was a traveler, a tourist, hopping from place to place and staying for a day or two up until a week at most, while Suna had planted his feet on the soil of these lands and hadn't seen anything else for ten years. They were both from Japan, but they were far from home, and they were alone because of it. During the second night they slept together, Suna admitted that he didn’t even know what home was, so maybe that was why he still stayed, trying to find something that made the time worth it. Komori didn’t know what home was either, so maybe that was why he wandered to every crevice and cranny and country he could reach. 

“How about letting me become the best date?” Suna asks, half an hour after they’ve left the bar and decided to venture downtown. It’s not difficult for them to weave their way through the crowd—Suna’s been doing it for years because he likes the nightlife and Komori is a fast-learner. Still, better to be safe than sorry, so Komori has a loose grip on Suna’s wrist as he leads them around like he knows the place better. “I’ve been told that I’m pretty good at it.”

“I’m sure,” Komori replies, tone with a hint of mirth. “My flight’s in ten hours though.”

“Oh, is that where you’re leading me then?” Suna lifts an eyebrow. “I know I’m flexible, but even I don’t think I can squeeze into your luggage.” 

“Funny.”

Suna tugs his arm back, not enough to detach himself from Komori but enough to call his attention. “So where are we going?”

“Not the airport, definitely,” Komori says. “I have to be there two to three hours before, so that’s around seven hours left. How long do your dates mostly go?”

“Like I said, I’m flexible.” Suna wiggles his fingers. Komori just laughs and continues pulling him along. He probably doesn’t know where he’s going, and being aimless at a time like this might just be a waste considering how little of it they have left, but Suna can’t begrudge him for it, can’t get frustrated when a wasted moment is still a wasted moment with Komori. “‘Sides, time is a lie anyway. Maybe we can trick ourselves into thinking seven hours is worth seven days.”

“Or seven hours into seven minutes.”

Suna considers the thought. “We can totally make out in seven minutes.”

“We can,” Komori agrees easily. “But we’ll probably only get to seven seconds before we get in trouble for public indecency.”

“We’re in Hongdae. Worst case scenario, we can say it’s a performance.” 

That gets a loud laugh out of Komori. “No one will ever believe us.”

Suna smiles. “It’s your last night here. Was there anything you planned on doing here that you didn’t get to do ‘cause of me?”

“Bold of you to assume that you’re enough to ruin anything I had planned,” Komori retorts. “Hongdae isn’t that big of a place though. I’m surprised you never get tired of coming here.”

Suna half-shrugs. Komori finally lets him go when the crowd has thinned out a bit, allowing them to walk freely without losing each other. Suna makes a sweeping step to catch up with Komori’s pace. He tucks his hands in his pockets, suddenly unfamiliar with the cold now that Komori’s warmth no longer clings onto his skin. “Familiarity and sentimentality,” he offers. “Two things one needs in a home, right?”

“Is that what this is?” Komori wonders, just as they stop at a familiar scene. He immediately sits by the steps, curved to form a semi-circle surrounding a flat surface just a bit lower than them. At the center is a mic stand, a portable amp, and a man with a guitar. He’s one among the many performers in this area, a lone guitarman with an audience of five to seven while all the others—duets, trio bands, four-membered dance groups—have small to medium-sized crowds huddled around them. 

But Suna knows why Komori chose this one despite all the others they could’ve flocked to. This is the spot where they first met. 

“I never thought home was the kind of thing other people could slip in freely,” Suna says quietly, watching the passerby and people mill about, but he settles beside Komori nonetheless, knees pressed close to his chest as the man—different this time, but with a familiar aura that’s only more reminiscent of three nights ago—tunes his guitar. 

“You’re the one who suggested it,” Komori points out, but Suna also doesn’t think he’s only wrong. He doesn’t know what home is, but if it was ever the kind of space strangers could occupy without question, maybe that’s why Komori has managed to slot into his life this easily. Suna has lived here for ten years, but he feels like these three nights are the ones he’d treasure for a lifetime. “What do you think he’ll play?”

“Hopefully a sad song,” Suna says. “Something that fits how this’ll end, maybe? Just like those sad breakups movies we watched on the first night.”

“We’re not breaking up though,”

“Cause we never really dated in the first place?” Suna echoes Komori’s earlier comment. 

“Because maybe this doesn’t need to end.” Suna glances at him, surprise etched in his features, but Komori isn’t looking at him, gaze thoughtful. “Maybe this is just a press pause until we see each other again.”

“So not a movie then,” Suna starts. “But like a song instead.”

Komori shrugs, not sure enough to grant him an answer.

For a few moments, they’re quiet. It ticks by in seconds, but to Suna, who has lingering thoughts about their time spent together and the conversations that had flitted through, it feels longer. But time is a lie anyway, and he’s never realized how right Komori was until this very moment. “Remember what you said earlier? About it being tomorrow and yesterday in different places, and what they could mean about today—tonight?” Suna suddenly asks. “I still don’t know the answer to that. If it’s really true, or if it means anything.”

“I mean, it’s hard to say.”

“Do you think we’ll ever know it?”

“Even harder.”

Suna laughs, because Komori’s kind of cryptid is simultaneously annoying and charming and it doesn’t make sense. Suna likes things that don't make sense, and it’s probably why he likes everything about this, about them. “So what’s easy?”

“Definitely not what we’re doing,” Komori answers. “Definitely not what we’ve always been doing.” Always been doing—wandering, staying, searching for something that might not even be there, possibly finding it in something that isn’t meant to last. Three nights. It’s just a blink compared to Suna’s ten years. It’s even less so compared to Komori’s countless countries. And that’s okay. 

“Maybe,” agrees Suna.

“But I don’t mind it,” Komori adds. “I can’t say I regret it.”

“Even if that means you’ll never know what home is?” Suna questions. That’s why Komori leaves, after all; that’s why Suna stays. “Even if that means we’ll be alone forever?”

“I’m not alone right now,” Komori points out. Before Suna can say anything to that, Komori grabs his wrist, stopping him. “Shh, the guy’s about to start.”

It’s not a sad song that the guitarman sings, but something unfamiliar instead, neither here nor there. Somehow, with the way Komori holds Suna, loose enough for him to pull away if he wants but certain enough for him to know that he’s there, it fits how this’ll end. They both don’t know what’ll happen to them later on, if they’ll truly part or if they’ll someday reunite, but they know, at the very least, that they’ll be heading towards something. Hopefully, it’ll be something like home. Hopefully, it’ll be something like what they have, right now. 

“Hey,” Suna begins quietly, not really wanting to ruin the serene moment but needing to say it. “Let’s go on a date.”

“When?”

“Tomorrow,” he says, and there’s a certain glint in Komori’s eyes at Suna’s words, because they both understand the implications. “Or yesterday. Or today. Sometime soon.” 

“Why?” Komori asks, just to be difficult.

Suna smiles. “‘Cause I’ll be the best one you’ll ever have.” 

This time, Komori says nothing. Instead, his hand ghost past Suna’s wrist to his palm so they can interlock fingers. It’s a moment Suna would snapshot, because this deserves to be made permanent, cherished forever. 


End file.
